The Fenton Diaries
by Victoria Hughes
Summary: A series of oneshots, not necessarily connected to one another in any way: variety of pairings, from the typical to the creative. 9: Forcing The Matter, PG. Danny's parents find out about Danny, but not in the usual way. No sappy love stories here.
1. Check That Out

**Check That Out**

Sam hated the beach.

Sam had hated the beach for a long time – ever since she turned thirteen and decided that she was a Goth. She didn't do 'sun'. She didn't do 'sweat', either. So currently she was cooking under a black towel, wearing a black hat and dark sunglasses, and swimming in deodorant.

Proudly, Sam knew she would come back from the beach trip as flawlessly white as when she left.

However, this was no longer the only reason that Sam hated the beach.

Sam was sixteen now. Danny would be turning sixteen in a week. Tucker was three months older than Sam and was already gloating regularly about his driving privileges. (Sam wasn't learning how to drive. She didn't really need to, honestly. She still got chauffeured whenever she didn't feel like taking the bus.)

Today, as Sam sat cooking in her blanket, thankful that the Fenton RV had been carted off with the Fentons inside, Sam hated the beach because of her best friend.

"Go long!" Tucker called.

"Okay!" Danny pounded by Sam, kicking up sprays of sand, his hair wet from the earlier dive into the water he'd taken. "Throw it already, Tuck! You know I'll catch it!"

"All right, man, you asked for it!" Tucker answered, tossing the Frisbee lazily, high into the sky.

Sam watched as Danny ran and sighed irritably.

Sam had had a crush on Danny Fenton for almost two years now. It had ebbed and flowed, and sometimes she thought Danny liked her back, but they always both backed off from anything more than a 'fake-out make-out' at the last minute. Sam knew why. She understood why. She didn't want to lose Danny's friendship any more than he wanted to lose hers, and being _more than_ threatened that very thing.

But oh … it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

Danny was _hot._

Over sophomore year, Danny had outgrown that awkward stage of adolescence. His shape solidified. He got taller. His shoulders filled out a bit. And what had once been a child's chest, helplessly without definition no matter how many ghosts Danny fought, was now very, very much 'defined'.

Granted, Danny was in a wife beater at the moment, but still.

_If Danny went Goth … he'd be totally irresistible,_ Sam thought absently. She could imagine him in all black clothes, a tight-fitting shirt, a choker, and just a touch of black eyeliner to really bring out thost baby blue eyes. Granted, he'd only _look_ the part. Sam didn't think he could pull off the necessary disaffected scowl (trademarked). But the mental image was nice.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Sam didn't need the real thing.

Besides, whether it was in her head or not, the only thing she could do was _watch._

_fin_


	2. Check This Out

_A companion piece to 'Check That Out'. _

**Check This Out **

_Oh, sweet agony _

_A thousand dripping needles _

_I bleed profusely. _

Danny hated Goth clubs.

Although at school Danny, Sam, and Tucker were virtually inseparable, outside of school the threesome let each other have their space. When they weren't out fighting ghosts, in doing homework, or chasing each other around on _Doomed_, the typical school night was spent separate from one another – Danny at home, usually getting dragged around to look at new inventions and narrowly avoid getting hurt by them, Tucker on the internet, and Sam skulking around in independent music stores, New Age bookstores, or attending Goth clubs. Neither Sam, Danny, or Tucker had any illusions about these personal activities being of any interest to the other two, so none of them invited the others to participate.

Until tonight, that is.

Tucker had managed to weasel out of it, the weasel, and Danny was stuck in the poorly lit club, sitting at a table with a Coke, listening to some Goth guy recite Goth poetry with heartfelt disinterest.

He was here for one reason, and one reason only: because Sam had asked him to come. And truth be told, although he could never admit it aloud, it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be.

Sam looked _amazing._

Danny had noticed over a year ago that Sam wasn't just one of his best friends, but also a very, very pretty girl. She was slim, muscled but in that cool, feminine-athletic way, and had really big, really awesome purple-blue eyes. (They were usually just flat purple, but that was because of her contacts.) And her hair … she'd finally stopped dying it last year, but it hardly made any difference. It was naturally dark brown, and really beautiful. He liked it the way she wore it now, longer and looped up into cool and interesting braids.

And her _dress!_ Woo! She was wearing all black with purple accents, mesh curling around her arms and up her legs, with a skirt that curled around her hips _just so_ and a corset top that showed off her cleavage _just enough_ and he had to stop staring at her like this. Danny averted his gaze back to the guy at the mike (some dude named 'Elliot'), but too late: Sam had caught him looking.

"Thanks for coming, Danny," Sam said warmly, placing her hand on his. Danny felt his heart jump. _It's not fair_, he thought. _She's my best friend, not my girlfriend!_

"Sure," he chuckled, shrugging. "Least I can do, right? Show my support?"

"No, no, you have to show your disaffected scowl," Sam teased. She stood up as soft, disaffected clapping filled the room and Elliot left the stage. "It's my turn. Wow, it's been a while since I did this," she said, sounding a little nervous.

"Sorry the ghost-hunting takes up so much time," Danny apologized sincerely. "Knock 'em dead. Er, not literally."

"Thanks, Danny." Sam squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek before taking the steps up to the stage.

And as she stood there under the lone spotlight, performing Goth haiku (which might as well have been another language as far as Danny was concerned), wearing that awesome dress and just being her awesome self, Danny thought that maybe he didn't hate Goth clubs as much as he thought.

Certainly not if showing up earned him kisses on the cheek.

_fin_

_A side note to anyone curious: I hope to have up a picture of 'Goth' Danny on photobucket in a week or two. The mental image is killing me._


	3. He's Hilarious

**He's Hilarious**

Vlad's life was full of unnecessary distractions.

For instance, he was just finishing his work on a magnificent evil plan to get the Fenton Suit working properly when the doorbell rang.

"Butterfingers! What is it?" he demanded of no one in particular. He could have had butlers and maids and any variety of household servants living with him, but noooo, he had to be an evil mastermind and didn't want to have to hide his plans from people in his own house! _There are days when this occupation almost doesn't seem worth it … and then, I remember dear Maddie._ How could he stop being an evil mastermind until he had her in his arms? Willingly? At least hopefully?

He yanked the door open furiously. "What do you want?"

The lady at the door held out a clipboard under Vlad's nose. "Package for Mr. Masters," she droned. "Please sign here."

Vlad blinked, signing as instructed. "A package? For me? Not my company, you are sure?" he asked, mystified. What could anyone want to send _him?_

"Here, sir." The woman snatched the clipboard away from him and thrust a rectangular package into his hands. "Have a good day." She stalked off down the steps.

Vlad eyed the package; it had no return address. "Hmm …" He took it inside, retrieved the Plasmius Box Cutter, and opened it.

It was a book.

**How to Find Satisfaction In Your Life When You're Over 40, Single, and An Evil Mastermind ****For Dimwits**

_By Victor Von Strangle_

On the book was a post-it note.

_Dear Vlad,_

_I thought you might find this useful._

_Your dearest arch-enemy,_

_Danny Fenton_

_PS. The first chapter is about GETTING A CAT._

Vlad actually managed to crush the book under his fingers.

"That boy--! As if he were anywhere near smart enough to be considered _my_ arch-enemy! I'll—I'll--!"

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

"Oh, cheese logs," Vlad groaned, blasting the ghost through the wall as he rose out of the packaging the book had come in. "He thinks he's so hilarious."

_fin_

_Vlad apparently takes advice from the 'for Dimwits' market, as he's reading one of their books in 'Maternal Instinct'. Also, points to whoever knows what 'Victor Von Strangle' is from._


	4. Waiting

**Waiting**

Her life had been long and full.

Samantha Manson, aged 94, lay down to rest. Her husband and best friend since high school had passed on years ago, succumbing to cancer at the age of 82, but Samantha had lived on. She had seen her grandchildren grow up, seen her great-grandchildren go to their first days of kindergarten and first grade.

Everyone who knew Samantha knew she was fearless. She had lived in the days when Amity Park was overrun with ghosts, and lived on until the ghost attacks became few, and finally none; she had worked with the best known ghost hunters of all time, including Valerie Gray, James and Madeline Fenton, and of course, the infamous Danny Phantom. Even as she aged, she was active. She had even spoken in front of the House of Representatives about animal rights – three times.

She was tired, and she wanted to rest.

"Hello, Sam."

Samantha opened her eyes.

"Danny," she whispered to the white-haired specter standing at the side of her bed. "Where have you been all these years?"

He was young. He would always be young. Daniel Fenton had died at the age of nineteen.

"Here and there," he answered. His smile was bittersweet. "It's Samantha Foley now? I can't believe you married Tucker."

Samantha smiled gently. "You weren't there, Danny."

The ghost's smile faded. "I couldn't be there. You wouldn't have wanted me there. Trust me."He held out his hand, and a scythe materialized in it. "No one alive wants to see me – except the tired."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "How …?" she asked.

"In payment. A trade. For you, Sam." The specter named Death spread chained hands. "So you could live until you turned 94 years, 4 months, and 12 days." He closed his eyes. "Tuck's waiting for you."

Sam settled back on her pillow. "How long do we have to wait for you?"

The ghost smiled. "Not long."

Samantha closed her eyes. "I'm tired, Danny," she said softly. "I'm so tired."

Death lifted his scythe.

"So am I."

He swung.

_fin_

_Something a little different. Yes, Danny becomes the Grim Reaper, for the term of Sam's life. If it makes you feel any better, he gets to hang out with Tuck and Sam for eternity after this snippet._


	5. Past Tense

**Past Tense**

It happened so fast, Danny couldn't believe it.

In general, Danny was stronger, faster, and tougher than any ghost he had encountered, save Vlad Plasmius and obviously, Pariah Dark. (He supposed he could include the Fright Knight in there, but the ghost was pretty easy to defeat provided one had a pumpkin nearby.) He'd been at this for five years, and it was old hat now.

He was about to go into college.

There was nothing special about this attack. Just a nameless, faceless snake ghost with glistening fangs dripping venom. Danny could take it.

It wasn't supposed to bite Sam.

With a roar of rage, Danny trapped the ghost, but too little too late. He dove to Sam's side; she was shaking, seizing from the venom. Her skin was clammy to the touch.

"Help me! Someone, help me!" Danny screamed, but there was no one to help. There was no ghostly power in heaven or on earth that Danny knew to save Sam.

She was dying in his arms.

"I'll get you to the hospital. No, I'll take you to my parents. They can fix it." Danny picked her up. "Hang on, Sam. Hang on, Sam. Hang on!" It was a mantra, a plea.

That was when he saw Death.

"A specter attending to the dead? How quaint," breathed the cloaked ghost, scythe held high.

Danny blasted it. "No! You're not taking her!"

Death didn't blink, didn't even move; the blast was ignored, passing through him the way Danny could phase through walls. "You cannot fight death, boy," it sneered. "You, of all creatures, should know that."

"Not Sam," Danny pleaded. "Not Sam. It's my fault. You can't have her."

"Accidents happen. You are not responsible. If you keep her from me, you merely delay the inevitable."

Sam was gasping softly, her eyes closed, her skin pale.

Danny grasped at straws. "A trade," he suggested. "Me for her." He transformed, from Phantom to Fenton between two rings of light. "I'm already half-dead, anyway."

The ghost was silent. "You have life still," he noted. "Very well. A trade." He raised skeletal fingers. "Her life in full, in exchange for a sentence: twice as long in my master's servitude. Since yours is merely half a life."

Sam floated from Danny's arms with a wave of Death's thin hand. "Sign here, boy." The contract and pen appeared in Danny's fingers.

Danny looked at Sam, and signed in red ink.

"It is done. A half-life for a life." Death raised his scythe, and Danny gasped, sagging; chains weighed down his arms. "The suffering you inflict on her is greater than that she has now. Live and die with that knowledge."

He swung.

The venom pooling in Samantha Manson's veins poured in a green river from her side, forced spectrally from her.

When she awoke, Danny Fenton lay dead beside her.

The cause was poison.

_fin_


	6. Say My Name

**Say My Name**

"Ready, Sam?"

"Ready!" The self-proclaimed Goth took her seat.

"Tucker?"

"We're all set up here!" Tucker settled his shoulder strap in place.

"Ember's still in the Thermos?"

"It's getting a little hot, but I think we'll put a stop to that soon enough."

Danny faced the closed curtain in front of him, clutching the microphone in his hands so tightly that under his white gloves, his knuckles were drained of color.

Sam had been highly disappointed that Danny Phantom's hazmat suit couldn't be gotten rid of. She'd settled for decking Danny's ghost half out in baggy black pants, fake earrings, black bracelets, eyeliner, and a black t-shirt. Tucker had submitted to being re-Gothed as well, dressed in black and his hair flying away from his head in crazy dreadlocks.

The curtain opened to a thousand screaming fans, and they were chanting Ember's name. They stilled upon seeing that it wasn't the teen ghost idol on the stage, but rather a very oddly-dressed Phantom and his two best friends.

"That's Danny Phantom!" shouted a lone voice.

"Cool!" added another.

Sam twirled her drumsticks expertly and slammed them down on the drum set in front of her. "Hello, Amity Park! You ready to rock?"

There were confused cheers, gradually starting to strengthen as Danny floated off the stage with a nervous glance back at Sam and Tucker.

Tucker gave Danny a thumbs-up. "We've got this crowd!" He struck a chord, and there was a following cheer.

Sam grinned. "The show must go on!" She started a beat.

Danny looked back at the Ember fans – here for her concert, only Danny had trapped her before she could put on her show. And now, to shut up the fans and keep Ember from breaking free to the roar of her chanted name, he was going to put on a concert.

He hated Sam.

"Say my name?" he ventured.

"Phantom! Phantom! Phantom! Phantom!" the crowd cheered.

"All right, you asked for it," Danny said – and sang.

_fin_


	7. The Truth

**The Truth**

It's a secret he's kept from everyone – from his family, and even his friends. He knows it's the truth, has known it from the first time he got a paper cut after the accident.

No one else will know. Not for years to come, he thinks, when there will be no hiding it. When Tucker hits his growth spurt, and Sam's body begins to change to that of a woman, when his parents will begin to wonder if Danny will ever come into his own. Even then, he thinks he might be able to hide it, if he can only figure out the secret to changing his own form.

Danny Fenton is not a halfa.

He is a full ghost.

He can hide under the guise of humanity, simulate a beating heart, reduce his ectoplasmic signature to one that will slip under the radar of most ghost shields.

But Danny Fenton always bleeds green.

_Fin_

_I don't know that this fits accurately into the continuity of the series, but it was still fun to write. I'd love to see a story where Danny really is a full ghost trying to fit in with humans, so to speak – although I don't know how different it would be from the original story …_


	8. Elsewhere

**Elsewhere**

**(Unfinished AU) – **_A story destined to never be completed. Unless someone else wants to delve into this world …_

&

She was a princess, and she hated it.

_Such a cliché, _she thought to herself, pulling up her freshly dyed hair. Naturally somewhere between a fire-y red and soft blonde, it was rather conspicuous; a mix between the colors of the King and Queen of Amity, but now her hair was so black that blue highlights flashed in it. She smiled at herself; much better. She had dismissed her maids, finding them fair jobs far from the palace over the last month, and now no one she knew would suffer unduly from her plot.

She was fleeing the palace.

Samantha Victoria Manson supposed she was romanticizing the lifestyles of the peasants, but she had no illusions about living in the city. She loved nature. For years now she had longed to live someplace quiet in the countryside, perhaps as a farmer. She would find someone who would take her in as a hired hand and learn the trade. Then perhaps, one day, she would return, when her parents had grown to appreciate her personality. She would, after all, have to rule Amity someday, or she couldn't enact the changes she wanted to. She would bring Amity into a state of harmony, everyone helping each other and sharing with one another, a true paradise …

The princess' dreams were big, perhaps bigger than she realized, but at the moment, it was all she had. She couldn't stand living in this stifling, corrupting environment for even a moment longer. She had to flee tonight.

&

Amity was, despite its name, a small and relatively violent country. It was plagued by a unique problem; it was populated by ghosts. Many ghosts lived quietly amongst the people, and some, it was likely, never realized that their neighbor wasn't technically alive any more, but many more were violent and dangerous. These ghosts usually came from a neighboring country – Dalv – whose primary population was ghostly. As a result, the Royal Family had commissioned a small fleet of ghost hunters to help put a stop to the invasions.

Amongst these was a family of three, the Fentons. The parents were inventors primarily, but they specialized in trapping ghosts. Their daughter, Jasmine, was a somewhat pensive young woman who worried about head sicknesses and how ghosts affected the humans they inflicted themselves upon.

It was said that they had once had a son, but if they had, it was as if he had simply disappeared into thin air; the Fentons never spoke of him, and the boy was never seen. Perhaps, some whispered, he had died.

Perhaps, others suggested, he was a ghost.

&

"Hey, watch it!"

Samantha grunted as she was pushed aside by yet another person in the crowded streets. She had managed to simulate peasant clothing rather successfully, but now, wandering the streets of Amity Park (the capital of Amity), she felt lost. How did she get a ride out of the city? It was mid-fall; surely some farmer was going back to the countryside!

She had money, so that was no problem, but she didn't want to use it just yet. After all, it had to last her until she found a job, and that wouldn't necessarily be easy. She wanted to be at least somewhat realistic about her choices.

The umpteenth person that shoved against her shoulder, however, made her trip, and she fell on her bottom. She saw red. "Sir!" she snapped imperiously from her seat. "Have you ever heard of personal space?"

The man who had brushed against her raised an eyebrow. "Woman, you are pretty," he said slowly, "but you're not going to stop anyone in the middle of the street! Either move out of the way or let yourself be run over; the choice is yours!" And then he was gone.

"Doesn't even have the courtesy to help me up," she muttered furiously, starting to get up from the ground, when a hand was offered to her.

She took it in surprise, and was pulled effortlessly to her feet. "Thank you," she said in relief, turning to the gentleman who had helped her.

It was a boy, no older than herself – thin and identical to her in height. His eyes were a very intense blue – although that may have been simply because of the contrast with his hair, which was almost as black as her own. He didn't look well off, but he wasn't precisely starved, either; just thin. "Shouting in the streets won't help you much," he said, smiling and guiding her gently towards the side of the street. "Everyone's too wrapped up in their own troubles to pay much attention."

"I had noticed," Samantha remarked dryly. "Thank you for your courtesy."

The boy shrugged. "It was nothing. You looked lost; can I help you?"

"I'm not certain; do you know of anyone leaving the city for the countryside?" Sam asked.

The boy shook his head, another smile crossing his lips. "At this time of year, the crops have just come in! Everyone is rushing to sell their stock. Wait for another few weeks and you'll have your pick of rides."

A few weeks! Sam doubted she had that kind of time. Even now her parents were probably searching the palace frantically for their precious heiress. "I cannot wait that long," she sighed.

"Why not?" the boy asked.

"It is a long story." Samantha paused. "Is there some other way I can leave the city?"

"Money," the boy answered immediately. "Money greases a lot of palms." He smiled. "If you have enough of it, of course."

Sam found that a little distasteful; her parents certainly did enough of that! "Are you suggesting—" she began, but suddenly the crowd pressed back around them at a shout.

"Out of the way! The King's Guard!"

No less than ten riders wearing the King's colors came flying down the streets on horseback, armed with inventions that Sam found entirely too familiar. "Ghost trouble," she gasped, suddenly intensely curious. She had never seen a ghost before; she had only heard tales of the trouble they caused. "I want to follow them! Can you—" she began, turning back to the boy—

But he was gone, as if he had never been there.

&

Daniel Fenton was his parents' best kept secret.

The Fentons were famous for hunting down ghosts, but it was a little known fact that their own son numbered among them. He had died shortly after entering his fifteenth cycle1 in an accident while aiding his family with an invention, and since then, he had never been seen or heard from again. But the boy 'lived' on.

His parents knew, but understandably could never admit to it. It was the law of the land that no ghosts were to reside in Amity, and to admit to Daniel's continued existence would be to expel him from the country. Instead, his ghost had gained some small amount of infamy as the one ghost that always got away: the Phantom.

For his part, the Phantom helped his parents oust the ghosts that wreaked havoc in Amity. And if the Fentons got the credit, well, it wasn't as if Phantom was going to win any points with the King and Queen …

It was the Phantom that now followed the King's Guard invisibly, just beyond the range of their detection devices. He was intimately familiar with all their equipment, of course; his parents had built it all.

He flew almost lazily. The Guard couldn't move nearly as fast as the ghost could. His mind wandered back to the girl he had aided in the street.

_So she's running away._

Daniel was familiar with the Princess, of course; he was often present when his parents presented new inventions to the Royal Family, and the Princess was almost always there, looking interested in the devices if not the proceedings. Her hair was black now, but it was unmistakably her; she was the only girl Daniel had ever seen with violet eyes.

She'd always seemed somewhat rebellious. Daniel couldn't honestly say he was surprised to find out she was fleeing the palace. He was sorry to see her go, but it wasn't his business; it wasn't like she knew him, and he barely knew her, and all that unfairly. Well, maybe it was technically his business in the sense that it was all of Amity's business if the sole heiress was running away, but heck, he was technically an outlaw. Outing her wouldn't do him any good.

The Guard turned a corner, and Phantom saw the offending ghost – a repeat offender if there ever was one, pinning a human to a wall with an ecto-web.

The Phantom turned visible abruptly. "Hey, Skulker!"

The Guard hadn't even had the chance to announce themselves when their invisible stalker appeared in midair. Skulker looked up, and his green eyes narrowed; this ghost was a hunter, and Phantom intrigued him as a rare specimen who helped humans openly. "You!"

"Me!?" Phantom cried, pressing a hand to his chest as if shocked by his own presence. "Why, yes, it IS me! What a surprise!"

"The Phantom!" cried one of the Guards, pointing. Skulker, however, floated upwards, his human prey forgotten.

"I thought you might show up," the hunter ghost said, completely ignoring the Guards. "I've brought some upgrades for you!" And with that, his shoulders opened up, firing ectoplasmically-powered rockets at Phantom.

The younger ghost yelped and fled skywards; for all his bravado, Skulker was a dangerous enemy. "Why don't you go back where you came from! So help me," Phantom called back, loop-de-looping over rooftops as the rockets detonated against each other.

"Hah! Not unless you're coming with me," Skulker mocked.

&

With the boy gone, Samantha desperately struggled through the crowds, seeking the Guard out. It was probably foolish to be anywhere near anyone who could recognize her face, but she didn't care; she wanted to see at least one ghost before she left Amity Park.

She got her wish. Suddenly, in a black and white flash something roared over the crowds, drawing all eyes to the sky. "Nyah nyah! Catch me if you can!" it shouted.

"You can't run forever!" A green and silver streak followed close behind the first.

"Skulker!?" exclaimed one commoner.

"And Phantom, looks like," added another, more dryly. "Take your fight someplace else, would you!?"

The first streak halted abruptly, letting the second one rocket past him. It also allowed Sam to get her first clear look at the ghost; his eyes were green, visible even from the significant distance, and his hair white. But the clothes … most of the commoner outfits were similar, but hadn't she just seen that shirt on—"As you wish, whoever said that!" called the ghost, drawing a chuckle from the speaker, and he shot off in another direction.

The second ghost performed a hairpin turn, pausing only briefly; Sam had the impression of flaming green hair and silver skin before the ghost snarled, "Oh no you don't!" and swooped down into the crowd, drawing abrupt screams.

Sam felt something wrap around her arm, and suddenly she was flying.

"Aah!" she couldn't help the shriek that issued from her. Supported from her wrist, she dangled in midair in front of the city populace in the grip of Skulker. "Come back here, Phantom, or I drop the girl!"

The other ghost, who had been flying away at a significant speed, halted in midair; his shoulders stiffened, and he turned slowly. "Come on," he scoffed, but his voice was a little weak. "Taking hostages isn't your style."

"You're running to the nearest ice field! Don't think for a second that you'll fool me," Skulker snarled.

Sam hung there for a long moment, too shocked to act, but she came back to herself after a while. _As if I'm going to play the damsel in distress!_ "Get off me!" she shouted, kicking the ghost in the shin – and jamming her toe in the process. "Ow!" What was this ghost made out of, steel!?

"You really want me to, princess?" the ghost sneered, making Samantha forget the pain for a moment. Had the ghost guessed she was the--?

But no; it seemed Skulker was just using a figure of speech. "As you wish," he mocked both her and Phantom, and let go.

Sam fell.

She was too shocked to even make a noise for the second time within the minute, and then something streaked out of nowhere and caught her. "Gotcha!"

It was Phantom, and close-up, Sam suddenly realized how familiar he seemed. But she'd certainly never seen him before today …

Samantha barely had time to contemplate it, though. A net plummeted from the sky and over their bodies, trapping Sam against the ghost's cold body and causing Phantom to curse aloud before the momentum of the net carried them both sharply to the ground. Phantom took the brunt of the impact, grunting, but he quite suddenly was rolling over in the net, trapping Sam underneath him with his legs straddling her body. "Brace yourself!" he warned, and then something painful jolted through her body, making her cry out and see double for a moment.

When her vision cleared, Phantom was glowing above her, his green eyes practically on fire. The temperature around her dropped rapidly, and she shivered. "Skulker!" the ghost shouted, his voice enraged. "SKULKER!"

The net flew apart around them, sending the onlooking crowd skittering away. Phantom shot up from the ground in a fury, snarling, "I'm going to _rip you apart molecule by molecule!_"

"That's the fighting spirit I've been looking for," sneered the hunter ghost, bracing himself in midair.

Sam sat up slowly, getting to her feet as Phantom's fists glowed blue; he thrust them forward, and ice crystals slammed into the elder ghost. Skulker fired back with rockets and other things Sam had never before seen in her short lifetime. How exciting was this!? Maybe it was a little too first-hand, but in her whole life, Samantha had never been present for something so exciting. And this was nearly an everyday sort of occurrence for the townspeople? Maybe, Sam thought, she should revise her decision to live as far from the city as possible …

She never saw where it came from, but suddenly a blue-white jet of light issued from the ground somewhere, engulfing Skulker mid-fight. The ghost screamed his frustration: "Not again!" but whatever the light was, it consumed him, spiraling him downwards and out of sight.

"And that is my cue to go," Phantom gasped, looking winded. His shirt was tattered. "I, uh … 'bye," he finally said, and took off in a long arc over the sky.

To Sam's surprise, there was peppered applause throughout the streets.

She could only suppose it was for the Phantom.

1 Cycles are similar to our years, but they're counted differently. A newborn is 'in his first cycle', for instance, so someone 'just entering their fifteenth cycle' is someone who has just turned 14 years old.


	9. Forcing the Matter

**Revelations**

_Danny's parents find out about Danny … but not quite the way you might expect._

Jack knew he could be oblivious. After all, every year he forgot about his wedding anniversary; he focused so hard on ghosts he had been convinced Jazzy-pants _was_ one; he hadn't realized until someone had told him, but he had completely mortified Danny and Jazz both with his trips to their school to search for ghosts.

But Jack wasn't oblivious any more.

"Jack, Danny is _not_ a ghost," Maddie said.

"Of course not," Jack agreed. "He's _possessed _by one."

What other conclusion could he come to? Jack was somewhat incompetent, but Maddie was pretty much perfect, and _both_ their detection inventions led straight to Danny.

Maddie had looked sorrowful. "It would explain his missing curfew …"

"His solid C-minuses …"

"His bruises …" Neither of them had noticed the bruising until a month ago, when Danny had come home looking as if he'd been in a fight with ten very angry cats. 'Don't ask,' Danny had said wearily upon his parents' confused looks, and trudged up the stairs. But that hadn't been the first time … and it wasn't the last, either.

"It explains the bout of craziness he had last year," Maddie mused.

"And how he gets to his room without us seeing him come in the front door!" Jack pointed out.

"And his detentions."

"There's only one thing to do," Jack said firmly.

And that was how Jack and Maddie had found themselves crouching next to the stairs, waiting for Danny to come in the front door.

One minute before curfew, Danny did just that, looking as weary as he usually did these days. "Mom, Dad, I'm home," he said slowly. "Before curfew, for once," he muttered under his breath.

"NOW, MADDIE! Hit him!" Jack jumped out. Maddie was faster, throwing herself at Danny with outstretched hands.

"Aaaaah!" Danny screamed, his eyes wide, and Maddie pinned him to the ground. "Mom? Dad?" His voice rose hysterically.

Jack lumbered over. "Don't worry, son, we're going to suck the ghost right out of you!" He lifted the Fenton Xtractor proudly.

"We know you've been overshadowed, son!" Maddie said encouragingly. "Don't worry; we'll take care of you!"

But if anything, Danny just went paler. "Are you NUTS!?" Danny screeched.

"That's the ghost talking, honey!" Maddie kept holding Danny down. "Hit it, Jack!"

Jack did exactly that, turning on the Fenton Xtractor and bringing it down to Danny's head. "Hang on, son! Just a minute and you'll be free!" Jack promised.

But Danny squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't understand," he gasped—

And then the Fenton Xtractor did the most unexpected thing: it didn't suck any ghost out of Danny:

_It sucked Danny himself right inside._

"Waaaugh!" The Xtractor shuddered, then stalled, and finally stopped, leaving a nonplussed Jack and Maddie staring at each other in horrified surprise.

"There's no way that could happen," Maddie murmured. "Human bodies can't do that!"

"But ghost bodies can," Jack said, sounding unusually subdued.

"You think that Danny really is …?" Maddie whispered, going pale herself.

The body of the vacuum cleaner shook as if it was being pounded on. "Um, I can explain," said Danny's voice hesitantly. "Really. But could you let me out first?"

_fin_


End file.
